Waking Dreams
by MsCogsworthy
Summary: A new student at Hogwarts catches Harry's attention. Will her past push him away? And what part do the Malfoys play in her troubles? R: Language, violence, abusive situations
1. Chapter 1

_The dream again, worse than before. More vivid, the sounds, the smell of blood, her blood on his hands. Her face, pressed into the hard wooden surface, cut and bleeding, stung by tears. The whipsaw pain of the cane rod against her thighs._

  
  


_You are mine, Ann. You can't get away from me- don't even try. I own you. You're mine._

  
  


_ Please. Please don't. Please stop_. 

  
  


"Stop!! Stop touching me!!" She lurched upright in her bed, clutching the blankets to her chest to ward off the reaching hands that suddenly weren't there. She stared around her wildly, searching for him, convinced he was in the room with her. As the dream slowly faded, she pushed a strand of sweaty auburn hair out of her dark shadowed eyes. She threw the covers away in a violent motion, slapping her bare feet onto the cold stone wooden floor of her bedroom.

  
  


She padded unsteadily to the bathroom, flicked the lightswitch on, and turned on the cold water tap. As she waited for the basin to fill, she gazed at her reflection in the silvery mirror. A thin, pale girl stared back at her through bruised green eyes still filled with shock and tears. She touched the glass, unable to recognize herself.

  
  


"My name is Ann. Ann Llewellyn-Pale. I am at home. I am safe, my parents are home, and nothing can happen to me here." She repeated this mantra several times, willing her still uneven breathing settle into a normal pattern. She splashed icy water on her face, dried off with the hewn of her gown, and turned to leave the room. At the door, she paused to look in the mirror once more before switching off the light.

  
  


"Tomorrow everything will be different, Ann. Tomorrow, you go to Hogwarts."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was awash in candlelight filtering down from hundreds of candles flickering near the ceiling. The four House tables were buzzing with noise as hundreds of students greeted friends and speculated about the new crop of first-years.

  
  


"Well, there're no Weasleys this year, so no safety bets for Gryffindor. I _will_ bet two Chocolate Frogs on that girl that pinched Ron on the Express-- bet she goes to Slytherin." The words were spoken by a tall, slender boy at the Gryffindor table. As he tossed two sweets on the table, he pushed back an unruly lock of jet black hair from his emerald eyes and straightened his robes across newly-broad shoulders.

  
  


The brunette girl beside him snorted and punched him lightly. "That's hardly fair, Harry! She might be perfectly nice!"

  
  


"Or perfectly horrid," the redhead boy across the table chimed in. "C'mon, Hermione, that girl's Slytherin to the core. Malfoy would love her." Ron paused to drop an Every Flavor Bean in his mouth. "Damn. Beets."

  
  


"Anyway," Hermione continued, "We're sixth-years, we're supposed to set a good example for the first-years. It's time to start, so be quiet." The little group fell silent as the new group of first-years hesitantly entered the hall. As the ceremony wore on, Harry, impatient for dinner to begin, gazed around the Hall. His attention was suddenly captured by a slender, pale girl standing just inside the doorway, nervously twisting her hands. He studied her closely, taking in the long auburn hair that almost veiled her too-thin face. He looked away quickly as she raised her face to look around, but not before he caught a glimpse of icy green eyes that stared out at him from deep fatigue bruises.

  
  


_Funny,_ he thought. _She must be a first year, but why isn't she at the front with the rest of the new kids? She looks kind of tall to be a first year, too._

  
  


"Hey Ron. Who is that?" he pointed toward the girl, who seemed to be studying the hem of her robes intently.

  
  


"Dunno. I saw her on the train. She had a whole compartment to herself, kept the door shut and locked the whole way here and never came out once. Whoever she is, she isn't very friendly."

  
  


"I saw her too, Harry." Hermione chimed in. "She looks really scared, doesn't she? She was positively green on the train- maybe she gets motion sick."

  
  


"I've never heard of a carsick witch," Harry scoffed. "Besides, isn't she rather, well, big for a first year?" Before he could continue the thought, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and raised her hand for silence.

  
  


"First-years, welcome to Hogwarts. You have been Sorted into your Houses. They will be your families, your classmates, and your friends while you are here." She paused as the Great Hall erupted into applause. 

  
  


"Now, there is one more small matter to attend to before dinner is served. We have a very unusual situation this year. We have a new student- a new sixth-year student, to be precise. Her name is Ann Llewellyn-Pale. Miss Llewellyn-Pale, would you please step forward?"

  
  


The pale girl at the doorway started as if she had been poked. Harry watched intently as she slowly made her way to the front of the Hall. She passed behind him, and he noticed that her hands were trembling and she was looking straight at the floor.

  
  


"Miss Llewellyn-Pale comes to us from the Toronto Academy in Canada. Now, Ann, sit down here, just like the others, and we'll Sort you into your House."

  
  


Ann clutched the edge of the stool and tried not to faint. She could feel the other studets staring at her; their eyes were like a great weight crushing down on her chest, squeezing out the air. As Professor McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, Ann tried desperately to bring herself under control.

  
  


"Aha," whispered the Hat. "Quite a sharp brain there. No lack of courage, though you think you're a coward, don't you? Kind heart, loyal, lots of magical talent. Too honest and sweet for Slytherin, you are, they'd eat you alive. Too flashy, I think for Hufflepuff. What shall it be- Raveclaw, or Gryffindor?"

  
  


Ann searched the crowd in a panic. Why was this taking so long? _I have to get off this stage, I have to get off now, I can't do this, I can't._ Her thoughts raced as she tried to find a face to focus on. Her frightened eyes found a pair of brilliant green eyes, eyes that seemed to steady and calm her. She saw the Gryffindor banner behind the eyes.

  
  


"Right. Gryffindor it is!!" shouted the Hat.

  
  


The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers as Ann shakily got to her feet. Professor McGonagall gently pushed her toward the House table. "Why don't you take that empty seat there next to Miss Granger? Miss Granger, if you would please make room."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The room blurred around her as Ann made her way to the Gryffindor table. The girl Professor McGonagall had pointed to slid over on the bench to make room for her. Ann seated herself carefully, but was saved from immediate conversation by the sudden appearance of food. The other students dug into the serving dishes enthusiastically. Ann felt her stomach slowly turn over, and she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. She picked up her glass of water and swallowed deeply, savoring the icy liquid as it poured into her mouth. She picked at a slice of bread, unable to force herself to eat more.

  
  


"Aren't you hungry?" The green-eyed boy across the table looked concerned. 

  
  


"I-I'm not feeling very well."

  
  


Hermione touched her on the shoulder. "I was too nervous to eat my first night too. You'll feel better in the morning. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She pointed at the other two. "The redhead's Ron Weasley, and that's Harry. We're all sixth-years too, that's why McGonagall sent you to sit with us."

  
  


"Hermione, don't scare her, rattling on like that," Ron drawled. "You'll have to excuse her. She likes to talk."

  
  


"Ron Weasley, if you don't watch yourself, you'll be doing your homework alone for the rest of term." Hermione glared at him playfully."

  
  


Harry leaned toward the pale girl again. He noticed how she tugged at the ends of her hair and toyed with her bread and still didn't eat. "Ann. Where were you at school before?"

  
  


She jumped slightly, as if startled by the question. "I was at a private academy. My father's a Ministry of Magic diplomat. All the diplomats' children went to a special school together."

  
  


"Where was your school? In Canada?"

  
  


"Yes. In Toronto." She pulled a tiny sliver of bread apart and ate it slowly.

  
  


Hermione interrupted. "It must be exciting, being a diplomat! Is your father Canadian?"

  
  


Ann shook her head, ruffling her long auburn hair. "No, he's Quebecois. From Quebec. It's technically part of Canada, but the residents mostly speak French. Sometimes they talk about seceding altogether." She paused to finish her glass of water.

  
  


"Did he go to Hogwarts?" Ron queried. "Is that why you transferred?"

  
  


"No. My mother went to Hogwarts. She's Welsh- Rhiannon Pale. My parents met after school. We've lived all over, though, but I like Canada. It's so pretty, right on the Lake..." She trailed off miserably, twisting her napkin into a mass of wrinkles.

  
  


Harry suddenly felt sorry for Ann. She seemed to be deeply unhappy- maybe she was homesick already? His thoughts were again interrupted, this time by Neville Longbottom.

  
  


"So why're you here? It's weird, isn't it? I mean, coming in in your sixth year and all."

  
  


"Neville!" Hermione was aghast.

  
  


"It's all right," Ann whispered. "It is strange, I know. I had...problems...with a professor. My mother thought it would be best for me to change schools. She thought it would expand my horizons." She smiled wryly at the idea.

  
  


_She doesn't want to talk about this, _Harry thought._ Something's upsetting her._

  
  


"Ann, what classes did you take at home?" She glanced at him, grateful for the deflection.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Ann sat on the deep mattress of the four-poster bed. She was alone; the other girls were in the common room with the other students, meeting the new first years and celebrating their return to classes. She breathed in and out, still shaky from the dinner conversation.

  
  


_I don't know if I can do this. How long can I keep this from them?_

  
  


Tears trickled down her face as she struggled to not sob aloud. She was shaking all over, her fists clenched until her nails cut into her palms, blood seeping up around her nails and staining her gown. 

  
  


_You're so stupid, Ann. _She heard his voice in her head._ No one will love you if you tell them. No one loves you, no one but me. They'll hate you, Ann. They'll know what you are._

  
  


"No. No. I can't let anyone know," she whispered fiercely.

  
  


The door burst open. Ann lunged backward against the headboard of her bed as Hermione, Ron and Harry piled into the room, laughing and shouting good-naturedly.

  
  


"Ann! Come out and meet everyone!" Ron yanked back the hangings. The three stopped, silent.

  
  


Smeared across the crisp linen sheets were bright, bloody handprints. Ann huddled against the headboard, a blanket clutched tight under chin. Harry was shocked to see that she was shaking hard enough to rattle the sturdy wooden bed. Ann was white and clammy, her eyes huge and terrified.

  
  


"Please. Go away," she whispered, closing her eyes.

  
  


"Ann, what's wrong? Are you sick?" Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and reached to feel her forehead. Ann flinched violently, lost in a terrible memory.

  
  


"Don't touch me," she gasped. "Don't!!"

  
  


Ron pulled Hermione to her feet. "I'll go get McGonagall. Stay here and make sure she doesn't throw up or anything." Ron sprinted from the room, slamming the door behind him..

  
  


Hary and Hermione stared helplessly across the bed as Ann dissolved into harsh, racking sobs. "Harry, what do we do? What's wrong with her?"

  
  


"I don't know, Hermione." They jumped as the door behind them creaked open. Hermione leaped off the bed and slammed it shut, locking it from the inside. "Good idea. Make sure that door stays shut until Ron gets back."

  
  


Harry wanted to hold her, wanted to gather her up and hold her close so she would feel safe. Instead, he fiddled with fringe on the bedcovers. 

  
  


A loud knock sounded at the door. "Oi! Hermione! It's Ron, let us in." Hermione unlocked the door. Professor McGonagall rushed in, followed by Ron.

  
  


"What's wrong? What's happened?" McGonagall hurried to the bed. 

  
  


"We don't know, Professor. We came in to ask her out to the Common Room and she was like this." Hermione peeked out around the door.

  
  


"Oh dear. I see. I'll take her to the infirmary, then. And I think a word with the Headmaster is in order, as soon as that's done. The rest of you go back to the Common room."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Ann woke to a bright, sunny room that smelled of liniment and something sweet. She blinked in confusion before the thought hit her.

  
  


_I lost it. I lost it, and they all saw. They know._

  
  


She felt tears well up again, but before she could actually start to sob, a small neat woman bustled in.

  
  


"How are we feeling, dear? You've had a good night's rest, I daresay you're a little better for it. You really do need to eat more, dear- your friends said you didn't eat anything at dinner. You'll be going back to your dormitory today, just in time to start classes tomorrow." The woman bustled about, placing a stack of clothing on Ann's bed.

  
  


"Now, you just get dressed and run along. I believe the other students are at lunch."

  
  


Ann crept out of the bed and slipped into her clothes. She left the infirmary reluctantly, wishing she had never woken up at all.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


As she entered the Great Hall, she saw Ron waving to her. She hesitated, considering not sitting with them but off to the side, alone. How could she face them, any of thm, after last night?

  
  


She sighed. No, refusing to sit with them would be suspicious and would only lead to more questions she didn't want to answer. Harry was already curious, she knew. She'd have to be very careful around him- funny, though, she seemed to _want_ to tell him things...

  
  


The three shot each other significant looks as she seated herself. The conversation stayed far away from the events of the night before, instead covering course assignments, Quidditch, and whether or not Moaning Myrtle would flood the bathroom by the end of the first week.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Ann hurried out of the Hall after busying herself with a few slices of bread. She wanted to get away from the others before they started asking questions about why she hadn't eaten anything again.

  
  


"Ann! Wait up, Ann!" She flinched inwardly. Harry.

  
  


She turned to see the tall boy running toward her, his face open and friendly. "Where are you off to, then?"

  
  


She flushed slightly. "Umm..I-I don't really know. I just wanted to get some fresh air."

  
  


Harry grinned at her. "Sorry if we bored you with all that in-group stuff. You're the first new person in our year since we Sorted, so we forget you don't know all this stuff."

  
  


"There's so much I don't know," she murmured. "Everything is so different here, I just don't know if I'll ever get the hang of it." She shook her head dejectedly, staring at the ground.

  
  


"Hey." Harry stopped abruptly. "You'll be fine. Don't worry too much, okay?" His bright green eyes searched hers. She looked skeptical. "No, really. Look, if there's something you don't know or if someone gives you a hard time or something, just come find one of us and we'll help."

  
  


He grinned at her again. She had a sudden faint feeling in her knees, as if she had dropped off a cliff. 

  
  


_That smile, oh gods that smile! That smile is going to get me in trouble..._

  
  


"Here, come on. You don't look reassured. How about a tour of the grounds?"

  
  


Ann shook her head. Harry's breath caught as her silky auburn hair swirled around her head. 

  
  


"Why not? C'mon, I promise I won't bite you or leave you out in the Forest or something," he teased.

  
  


_Won't he ever quit? Can't he see I'm afraid to be alone with him? Gods, all he'll have to do is smile at me, and I'll tell him all kinds of things, and then he'll hate me._

  
  


"Please? If you don't have fun, you can hit me. You can't beat that deal, can you?" 

  
  


"Fine. Fine. I guess I need to be able to find my way around tomorrow anyway." 

  
  


"Great!" He tugged on the sleeve of her robe. "Let's start outside- it's too pretty to be indoors."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

"So tell me about your family." 

  
  


They were sitting in the Gryffindor spectator box on the Quidditch pitch. Harry didn't believe her when she told him she didn't know the game- that they didn't have a team at her former school. They'd spent an absorbing hour on the pitch while he explained the game to her. Now, they were resting in the shade, chatting.

  
  


"Well, I told you all about my parents. My mom went to Hogwarts, then to Princeton. She married my dad there. He went into the Ministry as a diplomat. They moved to Canada a couple of years before You-Know-Who gained power; Mom actually worked as an Auror for a while, then gave it up to be a diplomat's wife and a mother."

  
  


"Is it just you, then?" 

  
  


"No. I have an older brother and a younger sister. Llew is out of school, working for the Ministry with Dad. Betsy's still at the Academy, but I think Mom's thinking of sending her here next year. If things work out for me, that is." She looked away, across the pitch, troubled.

  
  


Harry touched her arm. "Are you okay? I mean, I don't want to be nosy, but you seems kind of...sad." Worry was clear in his gentle voice.

  
  


Her throat seized up. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and struggled to hold them back. "I guess I just miss my family. I spent the summer away from home- I didn't even go home to get my things. Mom had them shipped and I came straight here. Now I'm here, and I thought it would be easy to just start over, you know?" 

  
  


He squeezed her arm gingerly. "Why didn't you go home?"

  
  


"I was visiting my Gran in Edinburgh. It was just easier to come directly." _Not to mention that Mom wanted me to stay out of town as much as possible. All summer, and last term too, just to keep away from him..._

  
  


Harry looked at her speculatively. _There's something there that she's not telling me. I wonder if she had a fight with her parents? Maybe she got expelled and they're ashamed of her..._

  
  


He opened his mouth to ask, when a soft, smug voice cut into his words.

  
  


"So, Potter. What're you doing at the pitch? And who's this lovely creature?"

  
  


Draco Malfoy stepped into the observer box. His finely chiseled face curled into an expression of unmistakable interest as he examined Ann. Harry glared at him, daring him to speak again.

  
  


"Well, well. It looks as if the pickings in Gryffindor have improved exponentially this term. You don't look like Potter's usual company- aren't you concerned with the family name at all?" Draco stood mere inches from Ann, scrutinizing her closely. Harry surged to his feet.

"Malfoy, back off her-" Ann grabbed his arm and forced him down into his seat, levering herself up to stand nose to nose with Draco. Harry was astounded; Ann seemed to grow in height, her back ramrod straight and her head tilted proudly toward Draco.

  
  


"Mr. Malfoy. So kind of you to be concerned with my family's name. I do think I am capable of choosing suitable company for myself, thank you." Her voice was as icy as her eyes.

  
  


"Evidently not, my dear. What would your parents think, seeing you so chummy with a Muggle-born like him? Come, Ann, you know he's not in your league. The old families should stick together, to preserve the blood." He sneered toward Harry, extending a hand to Ann.

  
  


"I beg your pardon, sir!!" Ann struck Draco's hand away from her. "Since when does a lineage entitle you to command me? Let me remind you, _Malfoy_, as long as we're comparing titles and families, that _your_ precious line is nothing but a group of power-hungry upstarts! My mother would be far less pleased with your company than with Harry's. Now, run along." She waved her hand dismissively and sat down next to Harry.

  
  


Draco's face twitched as he turned his back on them. He whipped around and pointed at Ann. "Just don't be surprised if your choice of friends comes back to haunt you one day. I warned you." And he stalked away.

  
  


Harry gaped at Ann, who seemed to melt back into her former shy self. "What was _that_ about?"

  
  


"I won't be bullied or judged by a _Malfoy_," she spat. Harry drew back, startled by the venom in her voice.

  
  


"Explain, please? I'm not sure what just happened," he said, softly. "Remember, I'm Muggle-born. And raised too-- that's two strikes against me already." He grinned, but Ann was deadly serious.

  
  


"That doesn't have anything to do with anything, Harry Potter. I don't care if you were raised by wolves. You're worth more than the whole Malfoy line put together!"

  
  


_Oh. Oh dear. That was a mistake. That was so obvious, he couldn't miss that._

  
  


She snuck a look at him. _He's blushing!! Incredible..._

  
  


"Look, Harry, you know there are some ancient wizarding families out there. They're called the Great Families-- all of them that have been around for four hundred years or so. They tend to be really... conservative and really exclusive. That's what Draco meant. He thinks I'm shaming my family by keeping company with someone that isn't from a Great Family."

  
  


"I take it you are, then. From one of the Great Families." He studied her face.

  
  


"Oh yes, Harry. Most definitely. One of the oldest and most powerful, to be honest. Then there's people like the Malfoys, who are infants by comparison. They think that keeping the blood pure is the way to become powerful enough to last."

  
  


She looked at him, angry again. "That's not enough anymore. Our family would never have survived if we hadn't intermarried with Muggles and the Muggle-born, if we hadn't opened ourselves up new blood. And people like Draco hate us for tainting our lineage even while they desperately want to be part of it. That's another reason why Draco cares who I keep company with-not because he cares, but because my parents might care."

  
  


"I lost you there."

  
  


"Look, a son of a Great Family can do what he wants. No one would care if he socialized with prostitutes or little boys. A daughter's worth is measured by her virginity and reputation. If either one is damaged, she can't be bargained effectively to increase family holdings. And if she can't be bartered..."

  
  


"I see. If she can't be bargained with, she can be snapped up by someone else who maybe isn't so picky."

  
  


"Right. So if Draco can discredit me in any way, he'll try it. He wants in, badly." She sighed, and sank back into herself. Harry shook his head incredulously.

  
  


"Wow. I had no idea of the politics. It must be hard, being in one of those families."

  
  


She sighed tiredly. "It is. You can't imagine how tedious it can be, being nice to people that you know only want to be your friend because of your family." She stopped and shot him a look of comprehension. "I guess you could, actually. It's probably the same thing you deal with."

  
  


"You sound like you know the Malfoys pretty well."

  
  


"Yes." Her face darkened again. "Draco's uncle was a professor at the Academy." She ducked her head.

  
  


They were silent for a long moment as what she said sank into Harry's brain. "Was he the professor you have..problems..with?" 

  
  


"Yes." She rose, dusting off her robes. "I'd like the rest of the tour, now, please, Harry."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

_The dream again. The thin blond man approaches her, grabs her by the hair and throws her to the floor. She is helpless to stop him, can only beg and hope that he will be merciful this time. The first blow lands, solid and knife-sharp across her back. She is driven into the classroom floor until her face is inches from the filthy surface. The blows fall faster and faster, the blond man laughing while she pleads with him to stop. She can no longer bite back the screams._

  
  


_"Stop!! Stop!!_

  
  


"Ann!! Ann, wake up. It's Hermione. You're having another nightmare, Ann, please wake up."

  
  


She awoke screaming, clutching tight to Hermione's neck, begging him not to touch her again. The girls of Gryffindor gathered in nervous clutches, whispering among themselves as Hermione rocked the sobbing girl in her arms.

  
  
  
  
  
  


One Month Later

  
  


"Harry Potter! If you don't stop longing after her from afar I'll...I'll..I'll hex your broomstick before the next match!" Hermione's voice cut sharply through his reverie.

  
  


"Hm? What?" He blinked, clearing the last of a pleasant daydream out of his head. Something about Ann and a moonlit night on the Quidditch pitch...He pushed the remains of his breakfast toast around on his plate.

  
  


"Aw, 'Mione, leave him alone. Let him moon over her if he wants. At least he's mooning over someone. By the way, Harry, have you kissed her yet?" Ron tugged at his girlfriend's curls.

  
  


Harry shook his head dejectedly. "I'm just so bloody nervous about what she'll do. Half the time she runs away, I don't know what I've said. Could you imagine what might happen if I try to kiss her?"

  
  


"Come off it, Harry. Just kiss her.You can't pretend you don't want to, not when you can't take your eyes off her whenever she's in the room. You're sweet on her, and everyone in school knows." Ron crossed his arms, daring Harry to say different.

  
  


"If Harry's so sweet on Ann, why doesn't he just go tell her? I'm pretty sure she won't laugh at you, Harry. She likes you. You've spent enough time together this last moth that I'm sure she can't think you don't."

  
  


"Yeah, she likes me like a friend. Besides, there's something I don't think she's telling us. She's so unhappy all the time," Harry's voice was heavy with worry.

  
  


Hermione nodded emphatically. "I know. And she hardly eats anything, have you noticed? She just puts stuff on her plate and picks at it so that nobody notices."

  
  


Ron cut in. "And she practically jumps out of her skin if you tap her on the shoulder. She's so high-strung she makes you look comatose, Hermione." He ducked a playful swat.

  
  


Harry leaned his dark head into one long hand. "I just can't figure it out. It's got to have something to do with that Academy she used to go to. Every time I ask her about it, beyond just chat about what she studied, she just shuts off and changes the subject."

  
  


"That's not the worst of it, Harry. She has these terrible nightmares, at least once a week. It sounds like someone's getting killed in our dormitory. She wakes up practically in shock, crying, bloody palms, just like the first night. And she won't talk to anyone." Hermione searched his face. "And I think she throws up every time." She shook her head, bewildered.

  
  


"I wish she would talk to me," Harry smacked the table in frustration. His friends stared at him. "I just...I really like her, and I hate watching her hurt like this."

  
  


"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed. "It's certainly not healthy- she's going to make herself really sick one of--"

  
  


She stopped abruptly as Ann entered the Hall. "Harry, look at her. She had another nightmare last night. I swear she looks worse now than when she got here. She looks...hunted."

  
  


Ann slid into her customary spot across from Harry. She was paler than normal, with huge purple bruises under her eyes. He could tell she'd lost weight, and her hair seemed dull. As she set her bag on the table, Harry noticed bright, crescent-shaped scars on her palms and forearms. She was shaking and seemed to be close to tears. He wanted more than anything to reach across the table and hold her, to make everything better for her. He was terribly afraid that she would run from him.

  
  


She sat in silence while the others chatted about homework for Potions class and the next project in Herbology. Harry watched her carefully, counting the number of bites of toast she ate, how many glasses of water she drank, how many times she pushed her hair nervously away from her face. She finished eating, still in silence, smiled briefly at him, and fled the table.

  
  


"Not good," Ron intoned. "Not good at all."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Saturday: The Next Day

  
  


Harry eased his lithe body into a soft armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Every inch seemed to ache and throb from the Quidditch match earlier that day. He winced, as much from his bruises as from the memory of being knocked from his broom by a well-aimed Slytherin Bludger. The Slytherin team went on to a crushing win, giving the Gryffindor Keeper a concussion in the process. Harry groaned, thinking of Draco's smirking face and mocking voice.

  
  


"How do you think your precious Ann will like you now, Potter? Losing team and black eye and all. Maybe I'll pay her a little visit, see if she's amenable to a better caliber of escort."

  
  


He sighed deeply, rubbing his scarred forehead with one hand, closing his emerald eyes in pure shame. She probably _would_ want to be around better people- he certainly didn't have anything to offer a girl from a family like hers. 

  
  


He jerked out of his thoughts when someone touched his shoulder. "Harry? Are you alright?"

  
  


Ann. His body tensed and released in a spasm of pleasure. God, even her voice affected him.

  
  


"I'm okay. Just a little sore, and really tired." He leaned his head back in the chair to look at her face above his. She smiled sweetly and folded her arms across the back of the armchair, laying her head close to his. 

  
  


"I saw the game today." 

  
  


He groaned inwardly. "Shit. I wish you hadn't. We weren't exactly impressive out there today."

  
  


"I though you did fine until your Keeper got clocked. It's too bad your Beaters never played hockey- I bet they could take out a few opponents with a good body check."

  
  


He grinned. "You know that's illegal."

  
  


"Never stopped Wayne Gretzky." She grinned back. She'd spent a dinner hour teaching Ron, Harry and Hermione all about hockey. "Anyway, you did great." She patted his shoulder.

  
  


"No, I really didn't. I should have seen Malfoy coming before he hit me with that Bludger. Little prick." He gripped his chair arms.

  
  


"He is a fool, I'll give you that. Y'know, he propositioned me after the game. What a git." She smiled-- Ron had been teaching her slang again.

  
  


Harry felt a cold stone in his stomach. "He did what?"

  
  


"He tried to ask me out, I think. Not too smooth, though. He spent a good quarter hour insulting you, then asked me if I wouldn't rather pass the time with a real man, a man of my own class." She smirked to herself.

  
  


"What did you tell him?" Harry clenched his teeth in anger._ I'll pound him into the ground. I'll kill him. I'll curse him. Please don't let her have said yes._

  
  


He flinched as her hand came down on the top of his head. "Harry! What do you think I said?! Actually, I didn't _say_ anything. I laughed in his face and walked away." She stroked his hair gently with the hand that had just slapped him. He felt his body tremble as her fingers smoothed his sweaty hair away from his forehead. Every finger seemed to be sending a tiny electric charge into his scalp.

  
  


"He's a pompous little toad. I wouldn't be seen with him if every man on the planet suddenly dropped dead. Besides,_ he_ stinks when he's sweaty."

  
  


Harry was suddenly self-conscious of his own sweaty Quidditch robes. He started to get out of the chair. "Speaking of, I should go shower."

  
  


For the second time, Ann pushed him back into his seat. "Sit. You're tired, and I said Malfoy stinks, not you." She moved in front of him to sit on a large ottoman at his feet. "Draco smells like something rotten and nasty and musty- it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Whereas you smell like leather and outside." She smiled, almost dreamily, resting a hand on his knee, then leaning an elbow on his thigh. 

  
  


He was terrified, thinking that at any moment she would retreat into that dark, sad place and run away. They had grown closer over the last month, comfortable with sitting close together when studying or relaxing, exchanging the occasional touch on the shoulder or pat on the hand. He had gone so far, after one Quidditch victory, as to hug her. He had been jubilant, thrilled with the game and strangely euphoric that she had seen him win. Without thinking, he had scooped her into his arms and buried his head in her rich hair. She hadn't pushed him away, nor had she since then.

  
  


He tentatively reached out a hand, still clad in his leather Quidditch glove, and rested it gently over her arm. She propped her chin on his hand and gazed up into his eyes.

  
  


"Why do I feel so comfortable with you, Harry Potter? I feel like I've known you forever."

  
  


"It's the glasses. Makes me look trustworthy." He chuckled.

  
  


"That must be it."

  
  


They sat for a while, in silence. He stroked her hair absently with his free hand, drawing long strands of it out of her loose braid. She sighed, arching her neck to meet his fingers as he teased her hair free of the elastic band. Her own fingers whispered over his knees, tiny spider touches that sent chills up his spine.

  
  


Harry debated furiously with himself; should he ask her about the nightmares? Was she finally comfortable enough to tell him? Or would he just scare her away?

  
  


"Ann?" He took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something, kind of personal?"

  
  


"What is it, Harry?" He felt her tense against his leg.

  
  


"I don't want to upset you, or scare you, or hurt you. I just...we're all...I'm worried about you, we're all worried about you," he rushed the words out. "You don't eat, you're shaky all the time, you're nervous...and Hermione said you have nightmares. Please, Ann, we care about you and we're really worried." She shifted as if to get up, and he grabbed her hand. "Please don't run away. Ann, don't go off and hide again. I care about you, and I hate seeing you like this."

  
  


She could hear the tears in his voice, cutting through her desire to run, to hide, to get away from him. He was holding her hand tightly against his chest to keep her from bolting from the room. She wanted so much to tell him, but at the same time she could feel his hands on her instead of Harry's. 

  
  


"Harry, please. Please let me go. Please stop touching me. Please!" She struggled against him, dragging him to his feet in her efforts to pull away from him. He instinctively grabbed her around the shoulders, pulling her tightly against him.

  
  


"Ann! Ann, stop it! Stop it! You have to talk to me, please! Ann!" She pushed and fought against him with increasing desperation.

  
  


"Stop touching me!!" she screamed against his chest. "Please stop! I don't want to do this! Professor Malfoy!! Stop!!"

  
  


Harry froze, still holding her tightly against his chest. _Professor Malfoy_?! What the _hell_?!

  
  


She screamed and sobbed against his chest, great heaving sobs that shook them both. She didn't fight as he lowered himself into the armchair and pulled her into his lap. She curled tightly against his body and he wrapped his arms around her.

  
  


"Ann. Oh God, Ann. What did he do to you?"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

They stayed, curled together, in that chair. Several other Gryffindors poked into the common room and exited again, seeing them, while others slipped through the room under Silencing charms. Ron and Hermione brought a pot of tea and cold cloths, then went about telling the others to give them a wide berth. Harry held her and murmured softly to her, gently stroking her hair and dabbing her forehead with the cloths. 

  
  


After an hour crept by, her sobbing slowed. She sniffled off and on, but made no move to leave his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, under his chin, and sighed a deep, shaky sigh.

  
  


"Harry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this." Her voice was hoarse and ragged from her screaming.

  
  


"Don't. Don't be sorry, Ann. Can you tell me what happened?" She shivered at his voice murmuring against her hair. 

  
  


"It started in my fourth year. Titus Malfoy was hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and flying- I think the Curators had an eye to start a Quidditch team at our school, and they wanted someone who had played. We all had to take both classes. Our parents thought it was great, they thought we'd be well-rounded.

  
  


"Anyway, Professor Malfoy started _watching_ me in class. You know how the Malfoys are- it feels like they're stripping you naked and laughing at what they find. He started to criticize everything I did, picking on tiny errors, sometimes things that I hadn't done wrong. I got to the point that I would be nauseated all day before his classes and almost in tears for the rest of the day. My father thought I needed toughening up, so he wouldn't do anything about it."

  
  


"What about your mother?"

  
  


"My mother hates the Malfoys. But Dad's a diplomat, so she can't afford to raise a flap because her daughter's having trouble in a class. So she didn't do anything." 

  
  


Harry clenched his jaw in frustration. _Poor Ann, having to deal with Malfoy on her own, so young._ He tightened his arms around her and laid his cheek against the top of her head.

  
  


"Anyway, Professor Malfoy starting making me stay after school. Not full-on detentions, but requiring me to come in for stupid things, like putting away my wand incorrectly or not catching on to a spell quickly enough. He would make me sit in a chair in the classroom while he berated me for all my mistakes."

  
  


"What a shit." Harry growled into her hair.

  
  


"God, I was scared to death of him, but at the same time, he was so...handsome and attractive and just...magnetic. I hated him the whole time he was screaming at me, but I dreamed about him at night. Either way, I couldn't get him out of my mind. 

  
  


"It just kept getting worse. The more he kept me after school, the more upset and behind I would get. Then he started dishing out detentions, four or five in a week."

  
  


"Didn't anyone notice? I mean, that seems really excessive."

  
  


"Not when you're failing two courses. I couldn't stay on my broom for anything, and I was so scared of making a mistake that I never spoke in my Dark Arts class. He was failing me, so the Academy agreed that I needed extra help and extra discipline. By the middle of Spring term, the Curators and Professor Malfoy convinced my father to sign a form giving him permission to cane me for my _attitude_."

  
  


"Christ, Ann, how did they pull that one off?"

  
  


"Discipline was always a sore point between my parents. My father traveled, and my mother refused to use physical punishment. But you have to understand, Harry. The Toronto Academy is very exclusive and very old-fashioned."

  
  


"Spare the rod, eh?" Harry asked, sardonically.

  
  


"Exactly. And so is my father. So he signed the papers, and I started getting caned. Usually a stroke or three, but it escalated unbelievably quickly. At the worst point, I was caned fifty strokes a day for a month." She shuddered, and tears began to leak out of her eyes. "Have you ever been caned, Harry? No? It's obscenely painful. You can hear the rod coming before it hits you- it makes this whistling noise, and you know it's going to be bad. Then it hits, and you can _feel_ it bury itself in your skin. The pain doesn't come right away. It doesn't hurt until the upswing. Then it feels like you've been flayed. Your legs go weak and your stomach cramps up and you can't stop screaming after a while." 

  
  


Her voice dropped to a monotone, coldly reciting the facts of her punishments. Harry couldn't keep the tears from rolling down his face as she described how Malfoy would deliberately draw out the caning so that she would almost recover from the pain before he started again. How he would cast Silencing charms on her so she could scream without making sounds, or on the whole room so she could scream without anyone hearing. How he would beat her until her stomach seized and she vomited onto the floor or until she wet herself from sheer pain. How she slept on her stomach for months and couldn't sit down to eat.

  
  


"That's when I quit eating. Summer short-term, right before my fifth year. I figured out that if I didn't eat, I wouldn't throw up during detention. He hated that.

  
  


"I thought fifth year would be better. I'd be out of his classes and on to something else. But I failed, and had to take the classes over again. More detentions and canings, pretty much every day."

  
  


Harry could feel her shaking, could feel her hands growing cold and clammy. He shifted enough to open his still-sweaty Quidditch robes and wrap her in them. She shuddered against his warm sweater and wrapped her fingers in the fabric close to his waist.

  
  


"Ann? Don't stop now, Ann. Please go on."

  
  


She gasped against his throat, sobbing again. "I can't, Harry. I can't. You'll despise me, and I couldn't take that."

  
  


His throat constricted around a tight lump. "Ann, I couldn't hate you. No matter what he did to you, no matter what, I couldn't hate you. You're not responsible, you didn't make him hurt you. He's the one I hate." He gripped her shoulders and pulled her away from him just enough to look her in the eyes. "Do you hear me? I won't leave you."

  
  


She sank back against him, weeping. The words broke out of her like a collapsing glacier.

  
  


"He starting _touching _me. He would make me raise my robes to be caned and he would touch me, would force his fingers inside me while he beat me. He forbade me to wear underwear, told me he could make things so much worse, that he would tell my mother we were having an affair. I obeyed him, because I was afraid of him and because I was so ashamed. 

  
  


"Halfway through the Fall semester, he raped me for the first time. He pinned me to the desk and forced himself on me while I was still bleeding from the canings. He just got more and more savage and violent after that. He said he liked to see me cry and beg and bleed on the floor. He raped me so many times, I couldn't count. I stopped sleeping nights, I almost completely stopped eating. I stopped menstruating in October. In November, I fainted in class. That's when the school nurse Divined that I was pregnant. I told her it was a Muggle boy I met at a club."

  
  


She shuddered again, and Harry stroked her hair until she calmed.

  
  


"Malfoy went into a rage. It was my fault I got pregnant, he said. He beat me until I lost the child, right there in his classroom. He magicked it all away, like it never happened. That's when I went to my mother. She was enraged, threatened to have his job. He told my father that cooked-up story about me consenting, and my father punished me, sent me away for the rest of the year."

  
  


"Didn't they see the wounds, Ann? How could they think you could want that?"

  
  


She turned her tearstained face up to his. "I never told them, Harry. I was too ashamed of what I let him do to me. And I was ashamed that I was starting to enjoy it."

  
  


Harry reared back in shock. "What do you mean, you _enjoyed _it? You liked him to hurt you? To treat you that way? How?"

  
  


"It wasn't the pain I liked. It was the sex, but more than that. It was the desire, the acceptance. He was the first man that had ever touched me, and he was good, Harry. He was frighteningly good at making me want him even though I had to bleed to have him. I thought it was a price I could pay, just to have him love me."

  
  


"But Ann, he didn't love you." Harry's voice was thick with rage and sorrow. "He didn't love you. He wanted you to hurt, he wanted to use you. How could you think he loved you?"

  
  


She pushed away from him. "Don't speak to me like that Harry! For God's sake, I was fourteen years old! I didn't know what love is like- all I knew was that this incredibly sensual older man wanted to be with me! I didn't understand! God, I knew you would hate me. Why did I ever tell you?!" She struggled to pull out of his arms, to flee the room. He grabbed her around the waist and pinned her to his lap.

  
  


"No! Ann, you're not running away from me! I don't hate you! I'm sorry. I'm just confused, and angry at him. Not at you. Please. Please stay and finish." He gently eased her back into the chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She looked doubtful, then gradually relaxed.

  
  


"What did you parents do? When they found out that he...seduced you?"

  
  


"My father hit the ceiling. It was all my fault, of course. He packed me off to Scotland over Christmas. I missed the last term, and he pulled some serious strings to get me in here for this term without having to make up the semester I missed. I can't go home for Christmas, and I'll be with Gran for summers. He can't even look at me right now. Mom says he'll get better, and I think he will, eventually. I just don't know if I can forgive him."

  
  


She wept again, quieter this time, and Harry snuggled her closer to his body.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

One Month Later

  
  


"Harry, I just got the strangest owl from my parents." Ann dropped the letter on the dinner table in front of him. "What do you think this means?" She dropped into the chair next to his and helped herself to a piece of his bread. "Eat more than that tonight, please," he said, firmly. He held out his pear to her, waving it at her until she took it and bit into it, smiling. 

  
  


Harry scanned the letter, reading aloud in a hushed voice. "Dearest Ann. We are so pleased to hear that you are doing well at Hogwarts. Your mother and I are pleased that your difficulties did not continue there. We were thinking of visiting you at school when we are in Britain later this month. We have serious matters to discuss with you concerning a proposal tendered on behalf of one of your classmates. I believe that you are acquainted with the young man already; he comes from an excellent, if somewhat upstart wizarding family. We believe you would be well-advised to give this proposal the utmost consideration. Your loving parents." He dropped the letter and sought out her eyes.

  
  


"I don't understand. What do they mean, 'a proposal tendered on behalf of a classmate'? A proposal for what?" Harry felt a nervous flutter rising in his stomach, a slow creeping feeling of dread.

  
  


"It means they've found someone for me to marry."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Later that Month

  
  
  
  


"Ann, would you sit down?! You've been pacing for hours. You can't see your parents in a state like that." Hermione firmly guided her into a chair.

  
  


"Oh, Hermione, I can't just sit here. I feel like something terrible is going to happen. I don't understand why my parents have to trot out this horrid old tradition; no one on either side of our family has had an arranged marriage for generations."

  
  


"Your taking this amazingly calmly," Hermione stated. "Aren't you more angry that they're trying to marry you off, period? I would be up a tree by now."

  
  


"Of course I'm angry. I'm furious. I don't want to think about getting married right now. And I'm terrified to see who they've chosen. Whoever it is, it won't be the person I love. I just-"

  
  


She was interrupted by Professor McGonagall entering the common room. "Miss Llewellyn-Pale? Your parents are here. They're in my office; you may close the door if you want privacy."

  
  


Ann paled, and hurried out of the room. Hermione stared after her, turning Ann's last sentence over in her mind, then turned to McGonagall. "Professor, they can't force her to marry someone, can they?"

  
  


"I don't know, Hermione. These Great Families have traditions and customs that are unknown to me. Certainly, she can't marry now, simply because of her age."

  
  


"But what will happen if they arrange a marriage for her?"

  
  


"I don't know, dear. We'll have to wait, and be patient."

  
  
  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
  


"She still hasn't come out. What are they _doing_ in there?" Hermione paced around the common room, ranting at Ron, who lay on the sofa before the fire.

  
  


"Dunno. But it can't be good. Nothing good ever takes this long to talk about. Harry's going to be crazy, though. He's playing today, and it's almost time for the post-game meal. If she's not there, he's going to flip out." Ron nibbled on a Chocolate Frog and watched Hermione pace. "C'mon, then. Let's go to dinner. Sitting here worrying won't hurry them up any."

  
  


They hurried to the Great Hall to find their usual seats at the House table. The couple quietly avoided their normal positions across the table from one another, and sat side by side. Hermione winked at Ron. "At least now they'll have to sit together."

  
  


Ron rolled his eyes at her. "What? A little extra nudge can't hurt. Maybe we can nudge them until they figure it out for themselves."

  
  


Harry arrived late, still in his Quidditch robes. "Well, another game lost. We're almost out of the running for the Cup this year." He settled heavily on a bench. "I just couldn't concentrate today. I had this feeling that something was wrong, something bad was about to happen. My scar kept twinging. Then I ran into the Malfoys, father, son and uncle." He shook his head. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about Ann's problems with Draco's uncle; they would think little of it, other than that the uncle was probably as bad as the rest of the family.

  
  


He took a few bites of his potatoes, then stopped. "Where's Ann?" His brow creased with worry.

  
  


Hermione braced herself for his reaction. "She's still talking to her parents. They haven't come out all day and-"

  
  


She was cut off by a sneering voice. "Looking for Ann, are you Potter?"

  
  


"Malfoy, you need to leave him alone." Ron stood threateningly. "Just go back to your own table, sit down, and leave him alone."

  
  


"Fine, Weasley. I just thought, since Ann's your friend and all, that congratulations from you might be in order."

  
  


"And why is that, Draco? You know something- spill it." Harry fought to keep his anger under control.

  
  


"My father and uncle just left. Everything's all set. I guess that sweet, protective routine just can't make up for money, power, and a name, can it Potter? Not when it comes down to matters like this. You should have known you couldn't compete with a pure wizard, Muggle-bred."

  
  


"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?"

  
  


"We're engaged, Potter. Ann and I are getting married."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Harry was too stunned to speak. As Malfoy walked away laughing, Harry stared at Ron and Hermione in shock. They stared back, helpless and frightened. He flung himself away from the table and sprinted from the Hall with Draco's mocking laughter dogging his heels.

  
  


They found him on the Quidditch pitch, beating Bludgers into the night sky and growling deep in his chest. 

  
  


"Harry." Hermione was afraid to get too close to the flying balls, much less to him. "Harry. Stop. We need to figure out what to do. She can't marry him. She doesn't want to get married, she told me herself. We have to figure out how to help her."

  
  


_Crack._ Harry launched another Bludger with a terrific swing. "Why, Hermione? It's not like I have any hold over her. We're not even dating. I'm just her friend Harry." _Crack._

  
  


Ron spoke then. "Harry, you have to tell her how you feel about her. You have to give her a reason to get out of this. A good reason, I mean, one that her parents might understand."

  
  


"I can't do that now. Her future's all planned out for her. I can't offer her anything anyway. Don't forget I'm not good enough for her."_ Crack_.

  
  


Ron and Hermione looked at each other in disgust. "Come on, Ron. Let's try to find Ann. Maybe we can talk sense to _her."_

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
  


They trudged into the Gryffindor common room. Ann was sitting, bolt upright, on the chair before the hearth. As they approached her, they saw that she was again deathly white, shaking and sweating. Her hands were clenched so tightly that blood seeped onto her beige skirt. Her eyes were wild and haunted as she turned to face them.

  
  


"Ann! Ann, what happened? Is it true, they want you to marry Draco Malfoy?"

  
  


Tears gathered in her green eyes and spilled over her cheeks. "It's true. He did it on purpose. They set the whole thing up, and they threw it all in my parents' faces. My father doesn't see any choice."

  
  


"Threw what in their faces? Ann, I don't understand? What did the Malfoys say to make your parents promise you to Draco?" Hermione was beginning to panic- Ann was rapidly returning to the state that they first saw of her. She looked at Ron pleadingly, but he shrugged. He didn't know either.

  
  


"I'm _damaged_, didn't Harry tell you?! I thought he told you two everything!" She was shaking so hard Ron was afraid she would collapse. He reached for her, but she jerked out of his reach.

  
  


"Ann, Harry wouldn't tell us anything he didn't have permission to tell," Ron tried to soothe her. "What's going on?" She just shook her head, and pushed past him.

  
  


"Why don't you go find Harry, and tell him to tell you. Tell him the Malfoys planned it all. Tell him they figured out how to buy their way into a Great Family!!" She bolted from the room.

  
  


Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist. "Come on. We've got to get to Harry before that something really bad he was expecting actually happens."

  
  
  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
  


Harry was still on the Quidditch pitch, slamming Bludgers into the dark, picturing Draco's face on every one. _Why didn't I tell her? Why was I so stupid? Dammit. I love her, and now she's gone. _

  
  


"Harry!! We have to talk." Ron skidded to a halt beside him.

  
  


"Go away, Ron. I don't want to talk." He turned away so Ron wouldn't see the fresh tears.

  
  


"Harry, you have to listen to us. Ann told us to find out what she told you. It has something to do with this engagement." Ron snatched the beater out of Harry's hand and shoved him down onto the ground. "Start talking."

  
  


He told them. The whole story, just as she told it to him, with all the emotions that raged inside him plain on his face. Hermione wept and clutched his hand, while Ron sat, stunned, through the telling. There was a long silence, before Hermione choked out, "That's what she meant then. It all makes sense."

  
  


Harry stared at her, uncomprehending. "What all makes sense?"

  
  


"She said the Malfoys found a way to buy their way into her family. That they planned it all along. Harry, who is Titus Malfoy?" Hermione shook him, hard.

  
  


"He's Lucius' brother." He still didn't understand.

  
  


"Harry, are you thick? He's also Draco's uncle! Why would Titus Malfoy go out of his way to possibly damage his own reputation, risk discipline by the Ministry even, for a fourteen year-old girl? Not because he wanted her. Why? Think, Harry!! What did she say?!"

  
  


The answer dawned on him rapidly, along with a white-hot rage. "Because if he spoiled her, and everyone knew she was pregnant, no one else would want her. He could get her for his nephew without much trouble. Her father would be so relieved to marry her off he wouldn't think that it was all a setup."

  
  


He shot to his feet. "I am going to kill a Malfoy today."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Ann huddled in the bathtub in the prefect's bathroom. The Gryffindor prefects had allowed her to lock herself in, knowing that something was terribly wrong but not knowing what to do for her. She ran a tub of steaming water and climbed in, still wrapped in her bathrobe. She hated to look at her body, at the scars that disfigured her thighs and hips and lower back. She rarely saw herself naked, not even from the front, since she bore the marks of Titus' fingernails and teeth across her breasts and belly. She huddled soaking wet, and sobbed herself hoarse. 

  
  


"Why the tears, dearest? This should be your happiest day." She thrashed backwards in the tub, away from the silky voice. In her mindless attempt to get away, she slipped and fell into the tub, her head plunging beneath the soapy water. She panicked, flailing out with one arm to find the side of the tub.

  
  


A strong arm grasped her wrist and dragged her out of the water. The blond man from her dreams hauled her out of the tub onto the tile floor and stood, looking down at her in amusement.

  
  


"Ann. I told you. You're mine to do with what I please."

  
  


"Go away," she whimpered. "Please, go away. Leave me alone."

  
  


"I can't do that, Ann. You've forgotten what I taught you. You've become far too comfortable here. I shall speak to Draco about his lack of attention to your discipline. A true Malfoy should be able to control his...mate." Titus Malfoy sank his fingers into the sodden fabric of her robe and threw her against the marble wall. She sank to the ground, dizzy and whimpering. He loomed over her again and struck her across the face, a powerful blow that knocked her away from the wall.

  
  


"What shall it be, Ann? My belt, perhaps? Or one of those lovely beaters that I saw on the Quidditch field? Or shall we stick with our old friend?" He threw back his head in laughter as she cried out. "Oh yes. I think we've developed quite a fondness for cane, don't you agree?" He snapped his fingers, and a length of cane materialized. With his free hand, he flung her onto her knees on the hard floor, smiling at her cry of pain.

  
  


"You thought I wanted you, didn't you, my dear? Poor little Ann, so unhappy, so desperate to be loved that she fell in love with a monster. Yes, Ann. I know every thought in your lovely head. I know you yearned for me, even while I beat you. I made you love me every time I spilled your blood across my hands. Now, it's time to cash in on that misbegotten love, my dearest girl. I'll have you for my nephew." He listened to her sob for a moment. "Oh but don't worry, my sweet. I'll make sure that Draco can continue this recreation of ours."

  
  


He raised the cane and brought it whistling down across her bare thighs. She shrieked with pain. Another blow, and another. She slipped on the wet floor and her face crashed into the marble, bloodying her nose. Another blow. She couldn't take it. She screamed aloud.

  
  


"HARRY!!!"

  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

"Where is she? Where did she go, Ron?" Harry tore through the Gryffindor Tower, flinging open dormitory doors. "We have to find her, especially if the Malfoys are still here."

  
  


A sleepy-eyed prefect poked her head out of her dormitory. "What's going on, Potter?! It's late, people are sleeping, you know." She yawned hugely.

  
  


"Fern, have you seen Ann?" Harry was frantic.

  
  


"Yeah. We gave her the password to the prefect's bath. She looked like she needed some alone time."

  
  


"What's the password, Fern?" Hermione pushed past Harry. "Ann might be in serious trouble and we need to find her, now."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
  


The three friends stood outside the prefect's bathroom, listening. They could hear muffled sounds from inside, but nothing distinct. Harry started to turn away, to look elsewhere, when an immense pain tore across his forehead. He heard Ann, screaming, as if she was inside his head. The pain was staggering. He flung out an arm to support himself against the wall. Hermione gasped aloud.

  
  


"Harry. Your scar. It's bleeding."

  
  


"She's here. And so is Malfoy. Hermione, open it." Harry raised his wand, as did Ron. Hermione stepped close to the door, and spoke clearly. "Privacy." The door popped open.

  
  


Titus Malfoy whirled to face them. His crisp white shirt was spattered with blood and more blood dripped from the short length of cane in his right hand. On the floor, Ann crouched as close to the wall as she could, trying to shield her face from the blows. Her back was striped with open wounds, which she tried to cover with the tatters of her robe. Her breath came in harsh gasps interspersed with almost soundless cries. Harry screamed her name as he raised his wand, intending to deliver a killing curse.

  
  


"_Expelliarmus!_" a different voice roared from behind the three friends.

  
  


Harry was flung away from Malfoy, his wand spinning into a far corner. Ron and Hermione whipped around, intending to curse the interfering person.

  
  


"Headmaster!" The pair dropped their wands.

  
  


"Indeed. I regret that I did not arrive sooner. Perhaps this moment could have been prevented."

  
  


Harry lunged to his feet, reaching for his wand.

  
  


"Harry Potter! Cease!!" Dumbledore seemed to grow to an immense size. Harry backed away from the headmaster, suddenly unsure of himself. "Harry, I believe that Ann requires your assistance. I will take care of Mr. Malfoy until the Azkaban guards arrive. If you would, please, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, help Harry get Miss Llewellyn-Pale to the infirmary."

  
  


Harry woudln't let anyone else touch Ann. Her stripped off his Quidditch robes and wrapped them around her, then lifted her carefully into his arms. He winced when she moaned at the contact against her injured skin. Hermione saw tears well up in his eyes and heard him whisper to Ann.

  
  


"I'm so sorry, Ann."

  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

December

  
  


Ann sat at the infirmary window, staring out at the snow. She was healing well, physically. She had terrible nightmares almost every day, and had again stopped eating. The nurses were terribly concerned and appealed to the Headmaster to intervene. Dumbledore went to Harry.

  
  


"Mr. Potter. A word, if I may?"

  
  


Harry jerked awake from his schoolbooks. He had fallen asleep in the library again. Dumbledore grasped his shoulder and led him to his office.

  
  


"Do sit, Mr. Potter." Harry collapsed into an armchair and gazed levelly at Dumbledore. His green eyes, usually so cheerful and clear, were clouded with pain and fatigue. His lean face was drawn into a permanent look of anguish, and he had lost quite a bit of weight since the incident with Malfoy.

  
  


"Mr. Potter, I and others are quite concerned about you and Ann. You should both be healing; instead, you seem to be tearing yourselves apart. Why is that, do you think?"

  
  


"Professor, I don't know what to do. I failed her once, when she needed me so much. I wasn't there to protect her from Titus- what if I can't protect her from the rest of the Malfoys?"

  
  


Dumbledore stared at him for long moments. "Harry, you need to go see her. She's failing without you. She can't find any reason to recover as long as she thinks you despise her. If you can't convince yourself to go because you want to, go for her. She may very well kill herself otherwise."

  
  


Harry paled. "I didn't know she was that ill, sir."

  
  


"She is, Harry. She's just as sick as when she came, only now she's alone. No one has visited her, whether out of guilt or respect, I do not know. But she sits by the window and stares for hours."

  
  


"Excuse me, sir. I need to go."

  
  


"Indeed, Harry. Quickly now. Don't tarry along the way."

  
  


&&&&&&&&&&&

  
  


Harry hesitated outside the infirmary door. He had dashed to the dormitory in a moment of inspiration and put on his Quidditch robes, still sweaty from the afternoon practice. In ful gear, aware that every student he passed stopped to stare and whisper, he strode down the hall to the infirmary.

  
  


He peered in through the window. His breath caught when he saw Ann in the chair by the window. She looked so frail, so thin and pale. Her thick auburn hair hung limp and dull against the back of the chair, and she plucked absently at the arm. The tremble had returned, visible even from across the room. He took another deep breath and pushed the door open.

  
  


"Ann?" She startled badly and cried out at his voice. His heart broke to see her hand raise defensively to ward off a possible blow. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he blinked them away roughly.

  
  


"Harry?" Her voice was a mere whisper, hoarse from hours of silence.

  
  


"Ann. Oh God, Ann. Dumbledore told me you were ill, but I didn't know..."

  
  


"Please. Please, don't touch me, Harry. I can't touch you. It hurts too much."

  
  


"Ann. I'm so sorry I wasn't there in time. Afterwards, I didn't know what to do. I was so ashamed and angry at myself for letting you down. I couldn't face you, knowing that I could have killed him and didn't." His voice broke then, and he fell to his knees in front of her chair. He wept, the same harsh, choking sobs she had wept earlier in the year. "I hate myself, Ann. I can't forgive myself for what happened to you."

  
  


Minutes passed. Ann stared down at the dark head pressed against her knee. She could feel his tears soaking through her robes, see his shoulders shaking with sobs.

  
  


He felt her hand touch his head, gently stroking his hair. He buried his head in her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. She cradled his upper body against hers, letting her own tears fall into his hair. She could smell the pleasant odor of leather and clean sweat in his robes, a smell that brought her own darkest night back in force. 

  
  


"Harry. Harry, shush."

  
  


He stood then, lifting her into his arms and sliding one arm under her knees. He gingerly lowered himself into her chair, holding her like before. She nestled against him, breathing in his warm scent. She laid her hand against the soft flutter of his pulse and fell asleep.

  
  


&&&&&&&&

  
  


Christmas

  
  
  
  


"Careful Harry! Don't drop her!!" Ron reached for Ann, but Harry brushed him aside.

  
  


"Thanks Ron. I've got her. Could you clear out that chair by the fire, please? I do need to sit down soon." He grinned at the girl in his arms.

  
  


"I have a mind, Harry Potter, to refuse to sit with you for that unkind comment. Am I too heavy for you now? Or haven't you been playing Quidditch lately?" Ann tried, and failed, to be stern.

  
  


"You're not too heavy. I'd like to see you put o a few more pounds, actually." He turned to Hermione. "Speaking of putting on a few pounds, where's Mrs. Weasely's yearly package? I bet there's a few tasty things in there." Hermione grinned at him and turned to rummage under the tree.

  
  


Harry lowered himself into the large armchair. "We seem to spend an awful lot of time in this position, don't we?" he whispered into her ear.

  
  


"You tell me when you're interested in finding another, Harry, and we'll get to work. Until then, shut up and enjoy it." 

  
  


&&&&&&&&&

Christmas night

  
  


Ron and Hermione had slipped off to bed hours before. With few other students around and no prefects to complain, Harry supposed they would be in a single bed until the holidays ended. He smiled affectionately at the thought, the glanced down at Ann, still cuddled in his lap. 

  
  


"You should probably go to bed, Ann. You look tired." 

  
  


"I'm not the least bit tired. Are you trying to get rid of me?" She eyed him, playfully suspicious.

  
  


"I don't want you to overexert yourself and make yourself sick." He hugged her to his chest and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of it.

  
  


"Harry?"

  
  


"Yes?"

  
  


"I missed you, this last month. I though you didn't want to have anything to do with me, because of what happened." Her green eyed sparkled with tears.

  
  


"I know, Ann. I'm still sorry I was so stupid and stayed away. I should have come anyway. Are you still cold?" He wrapped his robes around them both, enjoying the feel of her arms against his sweater. He jumped as an icy cold hand crept under his sweater, against his bare skin.

  
  


"Good grief, Ann! God, your fingers are freezing!" He shivered, feeling the skin on his stomach tighten.

  
  


"I can move them, if you want." She breathed the words into his ear. She smiled when she heard his breath catch in his throat.

  
  


"No. No, you're okay like that." He shifted slightly in the chair, trying to hide the evidence of how okay it really was. His attempt was made even more futile by the soft pressure of her lips against his neck. He shuddered, and turned his head to look at her more closely.

  
  


"Ann? What-?" She interrupted him by pressing her lips to his. He was hesitant, worried that she thought he expected this, that she was only giving what she thought he might try to take from her later. He broke away from her.

  
  


"Ann, are you sure this is okay for you? You don't...we don't have to do this. You know that, right? I won't force you." Her lips were still so close, it was agony to pull away from them to wait for her answer.

  
  


"I got tired of waiting for you, Harry. Don't worry. It's very okay for me." His lips came down on hers with breathtaking force, his tongue seeking hers in near-desperation. Her hand slid further beneath his sweater, lightly stroking his abdomen, tracing muscle and the faint outlines of his ribs, dipping gently into his navel, slipping just under the waistband of his pajamas before reaching up and twining in his thick hair. He broke away again, despite her murmur of frustration, and lifted her into his arms.

  
  


"We're not doing this here. Not where anyone could wander in and get an eyeful. Time for bed."


End file.
